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ENGLAND'S DARLING 



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ENGLAND'S DARLING 



ALFRED AUSTIN 

POET LAUREATE 



A.D. 878. This year the Danish Army rode over the 
land of the West Saxons, where they settled, and drove 
many of the people over the sea ; and, of the rest, the 
greatest part they rode down, and subdued to their will. 
All but Alfred the King. 

Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. 

G6nie composite, ^ la fois pratique et passionn6, 
Alfred futunvrai Anglais. j^sserand. 



SAN ■••-.: 



MACMILLAN AND CO. 

AND LONDON 
1896 

All rights reserved 



% 



- f- 






Copyright, 1896, 
By MACMILLAN AND CO. 



Norfeoott IPresg 

J. S. Cushing & Co. - Berwick & Smith 
Norwood Mass. U.S.A. 



TO 
HER ROYAL HIGHNESS 

ALEXANDRA, PRINCESS OF WALES 

DAUGHTER OF VANISHED VIKINGS 

AND 

MOTHER OF ENGLISH KINGS TO BE 

I RESPECTFULLY DEDICATE 

WITH HER GRACIOUS PERMISSION 

THIS INADEQUATE RECORD 

OF 

THE GREATEST OF ENGLISHMEN 



PREFACE 

In the spacious gallery of commanding characters 
commemorated in English Poetry, there is a strange 
and unaccountable blank. Where we look for the 
most illustrious figure of all, there is an empty niche. 
The greatest of Englishmen has never been celebrated 
by an English poet. Though it still be true of our 
race, as of those concerning whom Tacitus wrote, 
"Celebrant carminibus antiquis quod unum apud 
illos memorise et annalium genus est," no EngUsh- 
man has sung of Alfred the Great. Extolled by a 
succession of prose historians, by Asser, by Ethelwerd, 
by Florence of Worcester, by William of Malmesbury, 
and deeply rooted in the affections of his countrymen 
by an unbroken tradition, which, for a thousand years, 
has designated him "England's Darling," Alfred is 
forgotten by Chaucer, all but ignored by Spenser, 
unnamed by Shakespeare, and but fortuitously alluded 



viii ENGLAND'S DARLING 

to by the most eminent of their successors. Shake- 
speare indeed, though bequeathing us in Lear and 
Cymbeline two Celtic dramas, has no Saxon hero, no 
Saxon theme. Tributes to the genius, the virtue, the 
fortitude, of Alfred abound in the prose writings, not 
of Englishmen alone, but of annalists and moralists 
writing in foreign tongues. " Ille inter fremitus ar- 
morum et stridores lituorum leges tuht," sa3's WiUiam 
of Malmesbury in a sentence of singular strength, in 
which the glory of battle and the dignity of jurispru- 
dence are harmoniously associated. In his Outlines 
of the History of the World, one of his earlier re- 
searches which are insufficiently known to the present 
generation, Gibbon thus expresses himself concerning 
Alfred : " Amidst the deepest gloom of barbarism, 
the virtue of Antoninus, the learning and valour of 
Caesar, and the legislative genius of Lycurgus, shine 
forth united in that patriot King. Several of his insti- 
tutions have survived the Norman Conquest, and con- 
tributed to form the English Constitution." Hume, 
little given to enthusiasm, and never betrayed into 
exaggeration, asserts that " this Prince, by his great 
virtues and shining talents, saved his country from 
utter ruin and subversion." Burke concludes a stately 



PREFACE ix 

panegyric with this compendious verdict : " In a 
word, Alfred comprehended, in the greatness of his 
mind, the whole of government and all its parts at 
once ; and, what is most difficult to human frailty, 
was at the same time sublime and minute." Voltaire, 
to whose mocking wit not even the maiden deliverer 
of his own country was sacred, mingles no sneer with 
his homage to Alfred. " Je ne sais," he writes, " s'il 
y a jamais eu sur la terre un homme plus digne des 
respects de la posterity qu'Alfred le Grand." Mira- 
beau draws a parallel between Alfred and Charle- 
magne, and assigns the palm for greatness to the 
former. Herder, in his outlines of A Philosophy of a 
History of Maji, pronounces a similar verdict. " A 
pattern for Kings in times of extremity, a bright star 
in the history of mankind, living a century after 
Charlemagne, he was perhaps a greater man in a 
circle more limited." Shakespeare affirms 

. . . We are not ourselves 
When nature, being oppressed, commands the mind 
To suffer with the body. 

But Alfred rose as superior to fleshly ailment as to 
the inertness of his subjects and the ferocity of his 
foes. Later historians have but repeated the conclu- 



X ENGLAND'S DARLING 

sion of their predecessors ; nor has searching modem 
scholarship removed from Alfred's brow a single leaf 
of the fivefold laurel of King, Soldier, Poet, Lawgiver, 
and Saint, that has for ten hundred years encircled it. 
Strange therefore is it that Alfred hitherto has 
been glorified in no English poem. But the omis- 
sion seems stranger still ;when we observe that, by 
his birth, his character, and his exploits, he is the 
one EngHshman pre-eminently fitted to be a National 
Hero. The person elevated by instinctive selection 
to that commanding position must have existed, yet 
should loom, in outlines imposingly vague, through 
the mist of receding centuries. He must be, at one 
and the same time, historical and mythical. Arthur 
is too exclusively the one. The greatest of our 
Edwards and our Harrys are too clearly the other. 
Who will warrant the existence of Arthur more than 
of Brute or of Merhn? The Flos Regum of Bardic 
story has not flesh-and-blood enough to enforce full 
homage from our imagination. Moreover, Arthur is 
a Celtic, not a Saxon Prince ; and the tactful genius 
of an exquisite poet has abstained from enduing him 
with more than a hmited number of somewhat negative 
virtaes. Cressy, Poitiers, and Agincourt, are names 



PREFACE xi 

never to be forgotten. But more than one reproach 
adheres to the memory of Edward the Third, the 
sunset of his brilHant Reign having been darkened, 
not only by pubhc misfortune, but by the maUgn 
influence of a grasping mistress and unpopular 
favourites ; while Shakespeare has stamped on our 
minds an ineradicable recollection of the youthful 
levities of Henry the Fifth. But Alfred has neither 
stigma nor stain. A ruler without arrogance, a soldier 
without personal ambition, a lawgiver devoid of 
pedantry, a poet free from vanity, a saint untainted 
by fanaticism, Alfred laid the foundation, in days of 
distracting trouble, of our society, our language, and 
our naval power. The records of him may be scanty, 
but they suffice ; and he towers before us, actual if 
indefinite. While he is placed, thanks to the histo- 
rian, on a solid and visible pedestal, around his head 
shimmers the magnifying halo of tradition. By 
affectionate fable he is apotheosised above ordinary 
humanity. But the qualities that at times seem 
distantly divine, leave him still invested with the 
familiar and winning attributes of man. 

But if Alfred be thus qualified, alike by our knowl- 
edge and by our ignorance, to figure as the Hero of 



xu ENGLAND'S DARLING 

a Nation, his credentials become still more conclusive, 
when we note what is the nation he typifies and 
represents. Englishmen have never conceded un- 
qualified admiration save to those who combined 
with intellectual distinction the crowning grace of 
moral worth. A Louis the Eleventh, a Henri Quatre, 
a Louis the Fourteenth, a Voltaire, a Rousseau, a 
Mirabeau, would never have secured the unreserved 
homage of English sentiment. We forgive much to 
patriotism, we condone much in genius; but we 
accept no one as absolute monarch of our affections 
whose record is not clean. Our Ideal, it must be 
owned, is lofty and exacting; for we claim for our 
Hero a combination of qualities that blend with 
difficulty, and which in common estimate are deemed 
almost contradictory. Yet we find them in Alfred; 
it may be added, in Alfred alone. An obedient son 
to a father of unstable judgment and faltering virtue ; 
a deferential brother to a Prince glaringly his inferior ; 
a Ruler masculinely just yet femininely tender, Alfred 
moved between the realm of thought and the domain 
of action with alert but infallible footsteps ; ordering 
his days and distributing his faculties with discrimi- 
nating concern between the harmonious development 



PREFACE xiii 

of his own nature and the immediate rescue of the 
State. He cherished the companionship of scholars, 
but was never subjected to their sway ; and his 
thoughtful devotion to the Church was wisely tempered 
by a steadfast vindication of what is due to Caesar. 
He had the very talents, and the very character, 
that Englishmen admire : an imagination at once 
speculative and practical, with feet firmly planted 
on the earth, yet with forehead questioning the sky ; 
a virile love of country, an unwearied appetite for 
work, innate reverence for law, attachment to family 
and home, a grave responsiveness to duty, high-bred 
modesty, the determination not to be overcome, and 
an utter absence of pretension. Well may English- 
men revere these qualities in Alfred ; for, while they 
constitute him their ideal and their darUng, they are 
the qualities which founded, and which can alone 
maintain, the EngHsh Empire. 

For himself, the author cannot remember the 
time when Alfred was not the hero of his affec- 
tions. Alfred's name, and the tales that clustered 
round it, formed the most enthralling pages of 
nursery erudition; and the fond partiality of child- 
hood was sanctioned by study, and confirmed by 



xiv ENGLAND'S DARLING 

life. Wantage and Athelney became sacred names. 
When first he stood in the Roman Forum, where 
the buffaloes then took their noonday siesta in the 
recumbent shafts of Sabine wine-carts, he used to 
wonder how it looked when Alfred, sent to the 
Eternal City by his father " with an honourable 
escort," was anointed future King, and adopted as 
spiritual son, by Leo the Fourth; and he remem- 
bered how, when Alfred had justified Leo's spiritual 
insight. Pope Martin, out of regard for the King's 
great deeds and spotless character, freed the school 
of the Anglo-Saxons in Rome from all tax and 
tribute. Over and over again, in later years, when 
traversing those tracts of our native land which the 
most vividly recall his heroism, his wisdom, and 
his triumph, I found myself exclaiming, " If one 
could but write of Alfred ! " A visit to Edington 
— the Saxon Ethandune — one mellow November 
afternoon, gave fresh stimulus to the longing, and 
finally generated the production of this work. 
Would it were worthier ! But, to cite words of 
Alfred's own, " Do not blame me ; for every man 
must say what he says, and do what he does, 
according to his ability." 



PREFACE XV 

Meagre, comparatively, as are the memorials, 
whether authentic or disputable, of the second half 
of the ninth century respecting our Island, they are 
not so scanty as is commonly affirmed. I was as- 
tonished, in my search for any scrap of fact or 
fable that by suggestiveness might aid my purpose, 
to find the materials so ample. For every incident 
in the following poem there is a foundation, how- 
ever slight, in written record or in oral hearsay, not 
only concerning Alfred himself, but equally as regards 
his brilHant son. Alfred reigned for three-and-twenty 
winters after the victory of Ethandune and Chippen- 
ham ; but, since the close of his days was, happily, 
not tragic, the action of the poem ceases at a moment 
dramatically more conclusive. It was only by Will 
that Alfred bequeathed to his wife the Manors of 
Wantage and Athelney, and by the same instrument 
that he manumitted his serfs.^ But I have not 
hesitated to antedate those and other incidents of his 

1 What a delight it would have been to the studious King, 
could he have read, in a fragment of Hellanicus, how the slaves 
that had fought on the Athenian side at Arginusse were manu- 
mitted, and enrolled among the Platseans. Toi>s a-vvvavfMax'n- 
ffapras dovXovi 'EXKolvikSs (}>i]cnv eXevdepddrjvai, Kal iyypa(pii'Ta5 
us nXaratets (rvfiTToXiTeOeffOai avTois. 



xvi ENGLAND'S DARLING 

Rule, and, in a word, to compress into a period of a 
few weeks the most striking events of a lifetime. It 
is an interesting, and surely an auspicious, coincidence 
that the present Heir to the English Throne, like 
the Atheling in Alfred's Reign, bears the name of 
Edward, and again, like his mighty namesake, has 
for Consort a lovely Dane. 

"Alfred, Edward, and such proper names," says 
the learned Wright, "have become part of our lan- 
guage. There can be no doubt that Anglo-Saxons 
would have written them Alfred, Eadweard; but 
there is no more reason for our printing them so 
in a modern English book, than there would be for 
our printing cefter for after, or eall for ^//." So also 
it seems to me ; and, if use is here made of the Saxon 
" Ealdorman," it is because the modern form of that 
word would have suggested misleading associations. 

The Enghsh language, as it now exists, is indebted 
for its volume and variety to many tributaries; and 
we owe it to our mother- tongue not to allow it to 
be impoverished by gratuitous prejudice against any 
one of its sources. The attempt to exalt the Saxon 
over the Latin elements of our language can never be 
more than an exhibition of philological pedantry. But 



PREFACE xvii 

one perforce felt that, in portraying a period anterior 
to the days when the Latin and Romance Hteratures 
gradually enriched the vocabulary of Beowulf, one was 
bound to eschew, as far as might be, glaring anach- 
ronisms of speech. Hence, save occasionally in the 
mouth of Alfred himself, and of the scholarly ecclesi- 
astics he summoned to his side, the language used by 
the characters in England's Darling is mainly if not 
exclusively Saxon in its origin — the natural utterance 
of English men and women living in the ninth century 
of our Era. 

A thousand years ago ! If one turns to the 
Saxon Chronicle, one may read, at that date : " Then 
King Alfred gave orders for building long ships 
against the esks, which were full nigh twice as long 
as the others. Some had sixty oars, some more, and 
they were both swifter and steadier, and also higher 
than the others." The Chronicle goes on to tell how 
the King commanded his men to go out against the 
enemy with nine of the nev/ ships, and prevent escape 
to the outer sea; and how they took two of the 
Danish esks, drove others ashore, and crippled the 
rest. Thus Swanage was the precursor of Trafalgar. 
A thousand years ago ! What a splendid, what an 



xviii ENGLAND'S DARLING 

animating anniversary ! And should the genius of 

Alfred continue to inspire his race, why should we 

hesitate to believe that, a thousand years forward 

from to-day, his name will still be honoured, and 

the Sceptre he saved be still upheld, by a romantic, 

resolute, and invincible People ? 

A. A. 



PERSONAGES 



Alfred 
Edward 

Plegmund 

Werefrith 

Ethelred 

Ethelnoth . 
Ethelswitha 
Ethelfrida 

Edgiva 



Surnamed the Great. 

His Son. 

Archbishop of Canterbury. 

Bishop of Worcester. 

Alfred's Son-in-law {afterwards 

Ealdorman of Mercia). 
Ealdorman of Somerset. 
Alfred's Wife. 
His Daughter {married to 

Ethelred'). 
A Danish Maiden. 



Tkanes, Ealdormen, Freemen, Serfs, etc. 

Place 
Athelney — Selwood — Ethandune. 

Time— A.D. 878. 



XIX 



ACT I 



ACT I 

SCENE I 

[The Saxon Fastness in Athelney.] 
PLEGMUND 

Know you the tidings? 

ETHELNOTH 

No, nor crave to hear, 
In these ill days. 

WEREFRITH 

Withal, to know the worst 
Is the one way whereby to better it. 

ETHELNOTH 

Out with it then ! 

3 



4 ENGLAND'S DARLING act i 

PLEGMUND 

Buhred hath fled the land 
By him for two-and-twenty winters swayed, 
Fled oversea, a runaway to Rome, 
And in the seat of Mercia Ceowulf rules. 
Rules, did I say ? Nay, grovels at the nod 
Of Guthrum who, forsworn, upholds him there, 
A Saxon thane, withal a Danish serf. 
Where Alfred's sister sate below her lord, 
Helping him rule. 

ETHELRED 

And she? 

WEREWULF 

Held fast the ground, 
With a firm few, against the heathen horde, 
Egbert's true grandchild, long as Hving force 
Could break the onset, but at length withdrew, 
And, backward-wending pilgrims say, was seen 
Treading the streets of Pavia all alone. 
Seeking her lord. 



SCENE I ENGLAND'S DARLING 5 

WEREFRITH 

From far Northumbria 
Blow news as luckless. Breaking up his camp, 
That by the Tyne had wintered, Halfdene bursts 
Over the land, and, ravaging it, rides 
Right to the march and border of the Picts. 
Among his thanes he parcels out the soil. 
And the long-haired Northumbrian freemen makes 
Harrowers and ploughers to their conquerors, 
CUpped to the nape. 

PLEGMUND 

Aye, and fouler still, 
Hingvar and Hubba, since King Edmund slain, . 
Lashed to a trunk and arrow-shot to death. 
Ride through East Anglia rifling shrine and cell, 
Ely and Croyland, Bardeney, Peterborough, 
Breaking and burning, and at very Mass 
Wrenching the chalice from the hand of God, 
And tearing from the abbot's tonsured brow 
Alb, stole, and chasuble. Nor this the worst, 
Where worse awaits. From virgins vowed to Heaven, 
Virgins as white as is the Yuletide snow, 



6 ENGLAND'S DARLING act i 

They strip the veil ; who straightway die of shame, 
Or, dreader doom, dwell penned within the sty 
Of wallowing sea-swine. 

ETHELRED 

The outlandish dogs, 
Uprooting Egbert's England, and afresh 
Untwisting what he bound, and to their will 
Enserfing all 

ETHELNOTH 

Nay, Ethelred, not all ! 
All but Alfred the King ! 

ethelred 
Pray Heaven he lives ! But, while he roams abroad, 
Now in this cloak, now that, swordless, alone, 
Spying the where and whither of his foes, 
I still must lie with fear for bedfellow. 

PLEGMUND 

Nay, sign the cross upon your brow and sleep. 
Since by Pope Leo he was hallowed King, 
Heaven keeps a watch upon his chosen head. 



SCENE I ENGLAND'S DARLING ^ 7 

ETHELRED 

May you rede rightly, Plegmund ! And belike 

Is mother-wit a sort of Providence, 

Whereof is Alfred's brain as stocked as though 

It nothing housed beside ; for commonly — 

Forgive me, good Archbishop ! — learning blunts 

The native shrewdness of the mind. In him 

Are layman sense and cleric wisdom twin ; 

And though his brain is swayed by thought, his hand 

Keeps just as steady on the hilt as though 

He knew no more than I or Ethelnoth. 

PLEGMUND 

God bless your simpleness ! So long as men 
Know how like you to strike for Mother-land, 
By the rood ! they are wise enough. 



ETHELNOTH 

O true Archbishop ! 
May England never lack anointed lips, 
Like these, to preach Christ's gospel manfully ! 



ENGLAND'S DARLING act i 



SCENE II 

[A clearing in the forest. Edward, sitting on some faggot- 
wood, is stringing together bluebells and primroses which 
he has just gathered. A misselthrush is singing overhead.] 

EDWARD 

Sing, throstle, sing, 

On the hornbeam bough; 
But tell not the King 

Of a maiden's vow. 
When the heart is ripe, 

Then the days are fleet: 
Pipe, throstle, pipe I 

Sweet I sweet I sweet I 

If but the best of us could sing like thee ! 

But even Adhelm lacks the craft to reach 

Thy untaught silvery syllables of song, 

Wild gleeman of the woods ! In all the world 

There lives no sound to match thy minstrelsy, 

Saving her voice ; and that, though heavenlier still, 

Alack ! is seldom heard. 



SCENE II ENGLAND^S DARLING 9 

Flute, tlu'ostle, flute , 

To my lagging dear. 
And never be mute 

Till she hie to hear. 
Now that the Spring 

And the Summer meet, 
Sing, throstle, sing! 

Sweet I sweet I sweet I 

[He hears a rustling in the leaves, and bounds to his feet.] 

She comes ! But no, it is a tattered churl, 
That through the tangle of these troubled times 
Seeks for an outlet to his wretchedness. 
Yet, better not be seen : Love's hide-and-seek 
Wants no onlookers. 

[He swings himself on to a bough, and swarms the tree. Alfred, 
disguised as a vagrant, passes underneath, pausing an in- 
stant, and taking up the flowers that are lying on the 
ground.] 

ALFRED 

Children, or lovers, must have passed this way, 
Or lovers therefore children ; for the twain 
Have this in common, that they lightly cull 



lo ENGLAND'S DARLING act I 

The sweets of nature, but to throw away 
And let them wilt when gathered. 

[He lays the flowers on the ground and passes onj 



EDWARD 

He mutters to himself some droneful saw, 

After his kind. The very primroses 

To his sad gaze beseem but ruefully ; 

And little kens he that those bluebells keep, 

There where they lie, within their threaded stems, 

The secret of a joy unspeakable. 

But lo ! a nest, and five blue eggs still warm 

With love's close brooding ! If the misselthrush 

That shrilled so gleefully till scared away 

Had mated here, I must have spared his crib. 

But never doth he build as high as this. 

True poet that he is, he nesteth low, 

Only to soar in song ! These eggs bespeak 

The satin-shining starling, whistling thief, 

Who mocks his betters and parades aloft 

On borrowed notes. So will I filch these beads. 

To make my woodland wreath still worthier 

For her white throat. 



SCENE II ENGLAND'S DARLING II 

[He descends the tree, blows the eggs, and threads them with 
the primroses and bluebells. Holding them out before 
him] 

A necklace for a queen. 

EDGIVA {coming noiselessly from behind the faggot' 
stacks and kneeling in front of him) 

The queen is here ! 
For love can seat the lowliest on a throne, 
And — do you love me ? 

EDWARD {raising her) 

Sceptre is there none, 
Sceptre nor sword, should these be mine to give, 
I would not halve with you. 

EDGIVA 

Halve but yourself, 
And 'twere enough. Nay, give it all to me, 
And never take away ! But will you not, 
For true love's sake, entrust to me your name. 
That I may say it when you are not near. 
And, saying it, may fancy you less far? 



12 ENGLAND'S DARLING act i 

EDWARD 

Know me as Edward ; 'tis a princely name : 
And if the world should ever call me prince, 
Be sure that you my princess then would be. 

EDGIVA 

Noble you musf be : noble too am I, 

If true the tale that Danewulf loves to tell 

When twilight duskens round the crackling logs ; 

How, striding hearthward through the forest glade, 

He heard a mewling in an eagle's nest, 

And, swarming to the wychelm's topmost fork, 

Found me, strange callow nestling, not yet fledged, 

A golden fillet round my dimpled wrist, 

Awake and wailing ; cradled there, he deems. 

By widowed chieftain worsened in the fight, 

And fleeing for his life. 

EDWARD 

No ! dropped from Heaven. 
Too fair, too sweet, for any seed of earth. 
My blossom of the air, my sky-sent gift. 



SCENE II ENGLAND'S DARLING 13 

My love from otherwhere, with not a touch 
Of the gross ground ! 



EDGIVA 

O woodland way of love ! 
Wealthiest of all, that never says enough 
Till every flower be hired by lordly speech 
To bear its burden. 



EDWARD 

More, much more, than speech ! 
Look ! I have made a necklace for your neck, 
Worthy its fresh and fair simplicity. 
The Pagans have our gold and jewels filched, 
And left us nought but steel, wherewith, please Heaven ! 
We'll have the gold and jewels back again : 
So for your throat I have neither ore nor gem. 
Yet gaze hereon ! These golden primroses, 
These topaz shells, these bells of amethyst. 
Are — nay, but let me round them on your neck, 
And then with kisses pay your jewel-smith. 

[He fastens them round her throat.] 



14 ENGLAND'S DARLING act i 

EDGIVA 

How you all spoil me ! You, the most of all ! 
My mother, — other mother have I none, 
And she no other child, — Danewulf s free wife. 
Is fain to hinder me when I would drudge, 
Vowing that hand of woman noble-born 
Should touch nought baser than the dainty task 
Of pirn or needle ; but I heed her not : 
And these poor arms you fold about you now, 
Oft scrub the settle, scour the pans, and knead 
The homely dough. You handle but the sword ! 

[Breaking away from him.] 
I am not meet for you. 

EDWARD {embracing her tenderly) 

So much more meet, 
Because you are a woman, scorning not 
A woman's duty. For my father says, 
Work is the noblest lot and life of man, 
While war is but the weapon wrought to clear 
A path for peaceful labour. 



SCENE II ENGLAND'S DARLING 

EDGIVA 

I should love 
To know your father. 

EDWARD 

So you shall, some day, 
When, Alfred's peaceful daydreams all fulfilled, 
Men may beneath their roof-tree safely sit, 
Not harried by these rovers of the sea. 
This way, and that, finding no settled home 
For such a winsome tenderling as thou ! 

EDGIVA 

Last night I had a dream, a foolish dream, — 
Nay, shall I tell it you ? for still you count 
My folly wisdom, — an unmeaning dream, 
Withal that haunts me waking, — how there shone 
Out of my body in the ebon night 
A light — a light ! — that, steady as a star. 
But dazzling as the noonday sun in heaven, 
Lighted all England ! 



l6 ENGLAND'S DARLING act i 

EDWARD {folding his arms round her) 

Dream that may come true, 
My fair soothsayer ! But till then, no word 
Of this . . . the highest, heavenUest thing on earth ! 

EDGIVA 

Now come and see my home. The needfire burns 
With no more tell-tale watch than one old serf, 
That craved for passing bit and sup within, 
And whom my mother set beside the hearth 
To heed the griddle-cakes, the while she sped 
To milk the wayward goats ; and Danewulf too 
Is far amid the clearing, raking mast. 
To fat the hogs. Come ! just a little while. 



SCENE III 

[The interior of Danewulf's Hut. Alfred is sitting before 
the hearth, scanning a map of England, sketched by himself.] 

ALFRED 

Yes, thus I trace it, ocean-fashioned land, 



SCENE III ENGLAND'S DARLING i? 

And wrinkled by the waves, that, rolling round 

Its rough irregular shore, run out and in, 

Following it always as though loth to leave. 

Nay eager, were they let, to find a way 

To its very heart ! England ! Once Egbert's England, 

And his to be again, if Heaven but deign 

Use my poor brain and blade to wrench it back 

For Christ and Cerdic's race ! Northumbria, 

Cradle and cloister of the learned Bede, 

My ne'er seen master ! Rude East-Anglia, 

Shouldering the ocean, as to push them off 

Who dare to come too close : Twice sacred Kent, 

Whither came Csesar first, Augustine next. 

To win the isle to Government and God ! 

Then my own Wessex woods and fastnesses. 

Creeks, bays, bluffs, combes, and shoreward- setting 

streams. 
Crowned at their source with burgh and sanctuary 
Now menaced by the Dane, and fenced in north 
By Buhred's Mercia, Buhred overcome, 
And feebly flying where he should have stood, 
And won, or died. For all of these were Egbert's. 
Aye, and the western shire's once glorious lord, 
Adhelm's Geraint, owned Egbert Overlord, 
c 



i8 ENGLAND'S DARLING act i 

Even to the uttermost point of land where sounds 
Nought save the billows shocking herbless crags, 
Or seagulls wheeling over wind-lashed waves. 
Aye and beyond, where on from Wye to Dee 
Runs Offa's Dyke, and Celt with Saxon live 
In kindred husbandry, — Grant me, God King ! 
I Alfred, your weak servant, yet may be 
Law to North Wales and terror to Strathclyde, 
And thus this side the mist may shape, within, 
One England, outward sheltered by the surge 
Against the spoiler ! 

[He folds the map, and takes out his hornbook.] 
But enough of hope, ' 
Never made good save seconded by deed, 
And deed's forerunner, thought. I broke off here, 
So here I must run on ; that those who come 
After my going may have means to learn 
How fared it with their forebears, like to me, 
Who strove with lack of learning, spelHng out 
The time-smudged tales and charters of the Past, 
Unto them adding truthful chronicle 
Of our own deeds in this our mother-tongue, 
Best bond of kinship, that shall weld in one 
Jute, Angle, Frisian, aye and these fierce Danes, 



SCENE III ENGLAND'S DARLING 19 

Not alien to our cradle, once enforced 
To own the lordship of the Saxon sword. 

[He resumes the writing of the Chronicle. Meanwhile, Edward 
and Edgiva have approached the Hut, and are about to 
enter.] 

EDGIVA 
Hist ! Mother is within : I hear her voice. 
Bide here awhile ; I will be back anon. 
Quit me not yet ! Love still hath more to say. 

[Edward remains without. Edgiva, entering, finds her mother 
upbraiding Alfred for allowing the cakes to scorch.] 

EDGIVA 
Nay, mother, but you must not flout him thus. 
Heed his gray hairs, look on his furrowed brow. 
And that strange something which nor you, nor I, 
Nor any of the level breed of folk. 
Have in their seeming. 'Tis a scholar's face, 
With far-off gaze, away in other lands, 
Whither we may not fare nor follow him. 
Look on his inkhorn. Nay, be quieted : 
I'll rasp the cakes ; they're but a trifle singed, 
And we shall sup in plenty. 

[Danewulf's wife, still m.uttering her laments, leaves 
Alfred and Edgiva alone.] 



20 ENGLAND'S DARLING act i 

EDGIVA 

Heed her not. 
She is a faithful housewife, and her thought 
Ran on the loaves so keenly, that you feel 
The sharpness of its edge. 

ALFRED 

And rightfully 
She rates my fault. I should have watched the 

hearth. 
Nor failed in the plain task she set me to, 
The price of shelter. 

EDGIVA 

Who would heed such things, 
With a great book before him ? 

ALFRED 

But he should, 
My kindly maid, if such his hiring be ; 
And I am sore to blame. Life's needful work 
Should be done best by him that reads and writes. 
Not absently forgone ; for 'tis no gain 



SCENE III ENGLAND'S DARLING 21 

To be in letters wiser than your kind, 
Withal in life more witless. 

EDGIVA 

Would that I 
Could read and write ! 

ALFRED 

Then so you shall, some day, 
And I will be your teacher. 

[He observes the golden bracelet on her arm.] 

Where, forsooth, 



Gat you this armlet ? 



EDGIVA 



Where myself was got, 
In the green cradle of a rocking elm : 
Left by a flying father, so 'tis guessed, — 
But 'tis a longsome story. Say me when 
You'll come and make me bookish, like yourself; 
And then together will we watch the cakes, 
Nor let them scorch. 



22 ENGLAND'S DARLING act i 



ALFRED 

To-morrow am I bound 

To the King's Witan, held in Athelney, 

Now the May moon is rounding to the full. 

And haply many a sevennight will pass 

Ere that again my footsteps tend your way. 

But see ! 

[He takes out of the folds of his peasant's smock a polished oval 
crystal, inlaid with mosaic enamel, green and yellow, repre- 
senting the outline of a human figure, which is seated, and 
holds in each hand a lilystalk. On the back of the crystal 
is a thin plate of gold, on which a flower is indicated. The 
oval-shaped side of the crystal is surrounded by a setting 
of gold filigree-work, on which are engraved the words, 
Aelfred Mec Heht Gewyrcan.] 

Take this, my pledge of thankfulness 

For service timely paid. Show it to none, 

Until, if ever, to the fastnesses 

Where Alfred holds his camp, you chance to fare ; 

Then with it ask of any, they will find 

And lead you to the scholar who for now 

Prays you Godspeed. 

EDGIVA 

Every bright star in Heaven 
Shine on your going ! 



SCENE III ENGLAND'S DARLING 23 

[Alfred quits the Hut, and goes his way. Edgiva comes out 
to look for Edward, but cannot find him.] 

EDGIVA 

O, he has gone, albeit I begged him stay, 
And no word said when come he will again, 
Leaving me reckon the time without the hope 
That makes it shorter. 

EDWARD {from his hiding-place) 

Follow, if you can ! ^ 

[He runs into the forest, Edgiva following, and is recognised 
by Alfred as he does so.] 

ALFRED {to himself) 
Edward ! . . . Unkingly boy ! In these stern times 
To fleet the May thus softly ! But, in youth, 
As in these springtime saplings of the glade, 
Floweth the mead of heedless wantonness, 
That will not take life gravely ! And the maid? 
Sooth, he hath chosen well, — if honestly ; 
And she, being honest, needs will keep him so, — 
Since 'tis the woman that keeps clean the man, — 
Till I make inquest of his purposes. 
[He passes on.] 



24 ENGLAND'S DARLING act i 



EDGIVA 

Stop ! Stop ! I can no more ; you are too fleet 
For feeble feet to follow ! 

[She sinks on the ground, and Edward goes back to her.] 

EDWARD 

Out of breath ! 
So, weaker for my wooing ! Woo me back ! 
Not even strength for that, my panting prize, 
Whom I have caught since me she could not catch, 
So keep within my toils ! Buy off the spear, 
Or bear it, says the saw. 

EDGIVA 

There ! there ! enough ! 
You would outdo the doves upon the bough. 
And, save you cease, there will be nothing, soon, 
To hold a captive. 

EDWARD 

Pay lip ransom then, 
And so be free, until enslaved again — 
Again — again — and ever yet again ! 



SCENE III ENGLAND^S DARLING 25 

EDGIVA 

Be seemly in your sweetness. Should he turn, 
Who dwindles in the distance, he v/ould spy 
Your madcap ways, and 

EDWARD 

What ! the muttering hind? 
What should he reck of Mayday merriment, 
That hinders not his going? 

EDGIVA 

He a hind ! 
'Tis a skilled clerk, who reads — and writes — and gave 
This crystal to my care. ... Oh ! I forgot ! 
Show it to none, he said. But you, you are 
Only myself— my 

EDWARD 

Well, then show it me. 
[She shows him the crystal.] 

EDWARD 

The King's ! 



26 ENGLAND'S DARLING act i 

EDGIVA 

What said you, dear? I did not understand. 

EDWARD 

That 'tis a crystal of no common worth. 
What said he with the gift? 

EDGIVA 

Gift it was not, 
Only a token-pledge to make me free 
Of Alfred's Camp at Athelney, whene'er 
I seek the scholar whom I strove to snatch 
From mother's rating when the cakes got singed, 
Whileas he bowed intent upon his book, 
Instead of heeding them. 

[Seeing him still pensive.] 

What is it, Edward? 

EDWARD 

Nothing, dear maid, save wonder at the wealth 
Entrusted to your keeping. 

EDGIVA 

Do you fear 
The gem is stolen ? I can catch him up, 
And give it back to him. 



SCENE III ENGLAND'S DARLING VJ 

EDWARD 

No : better bide ; 
Choosing a timelier hour to test its spell, 
And his who gave it you. 

EDGIVA 

He promised me 
That I should leam to read; and 

EDWARD 

Nay, forbear ! 
Nor with sour learning curdle your sweet soul, 
Now all as fresh as newly-uddered milk. 
Unlettered love is lore enough for you, 
And eke for me. 

EDGIVA 

But you can read and write ; 
And, did I read, you then could write to me. 
And, did I write, you then of me could read. 
Some trusty bearer running twixt us twain, 
And keeping us together all the while. 
No longer held apart for days on days. 



28 ENGLAND'S DARLING act 

Days — weeks — O, should it stretch into a month, 
I could not bear it. 

EDWARD 

Yet, forsooth it may ! 
Now listen, and be staid ! I love you, sweet ! 
But, when the sword is out, why then farewell 
To fondlings of the forest ; and the time 
Is big with blows of blade and battle-axe ; 
And, should the looked-for shock be on us soon, 
I must be there ! 

EDGIVA 

Then so indeed must I. 

EDWARD 

That, you must not ; nor yet to Athelney 

Hie, ere I bring, or send, you greeting word. 

For, as I trust my sword, do you trust me. 

And know that, should it strike as straight and true 

As is my purpose, I will bring it back, 

Shut in its sheath, and lay it at your feet. 

EDGIVA 

Whenwill that be? 



SCENE III ENGLAND'S DARLING 29 

EDWARD 

No man can tell his weird. 
God knows, Who sits above us, and to Him 
I you entrust. So be nor sad nor lone. 

EDGIVA 

I never can be lonely nor yet sad 
With such a love as yours to hearten me. 
Only, I pray you, do not die, nor leave 
Me utterly without you. While you live, 
I can bear all things. 

EDWARD 

Spoken as I wished. 

EDGIVA 

I have no wish except to do your wish ; 
For man is masterful, and so should be, 
And I am but a woman ; having strength 
To hide my weakness, thus to keep you strong, 
But feeble all beside. You love me, don't you ? 



30 ENGLAND'S DARLING act i 

EDWARD 

This morning when I rose to wend your way, 

'Twas barely dawn, and herding night had not 

Yet folded all her stars. But, as I clove 

Straight through the low-lying marsh, then leaped to 

land. 
Tethering my boat among the reedy swamps 
Where fish the flapping herons, soon the East 
Crimsoned like hedgerose yet but half unclosed, 
Then opened, and the day waxed frank and fresh 
As she towards whom with hither-hastening feet 
I fared, I flew. The treble-throated lark 
Shook his wet wings, and, soon an unseen sound, 
Carolled his matin at the gate of Heaven. 
But whether like a fountain he went up, 
Or in melodious spray fell bubbling back, 
Upward or downward, still he seemed to trill 
"Edgiva" and " Edgiva," till your name 
Soared into space, and summered all the air. 
Why do you weep ? 

EDGIVA 

There is no tongue save tears 
To say how happy your fond madness makes me. 



SCENE III ENGLAND'S DARLING 31 

EDWARD 

Then, as I crossed the Parrett where it swirls 
Swelled by the He and Yeo, a mottled trout, 
That motionless beneath an alder kept 
Its poise against the current, sudden scared, 
Flashed like a flying shadow through the stream, 
And was no more ; and like to it I sped, 
Swift up the windings of the wave that points 
The pathway to your home. The lady smocks 
Smiled on me as I passed, '' She waits ! she waits ! " 
And every wilding windflower that I bruised 
Seemed to upbraid the slowness of my feet. 
And so I was too soon, — love always is, — 
And made a pastime of this flowery chain 
To link you to me still when I am gone. 
Look ! when it fades, frame you another like it, 
And then another, that the woven bond 
Betwixt us twain may never be undone. 

EDGIVA 

Nay, when this wilteth, I will wear it still. 

Not round my neck, but nearer, next my heart, 

Until you come again. 



32 ENGLAND'S DARLING act i 

EDWARD 

Then, now farewell ! 
See ! Kiss my sword, and pray upon your knees 
Nightly, and with each quivering of the dawn, 
That it may strike as true as is my troth. 
For God and England ! 



END OF ACT I 



^^. 



ACT II 



ACT II 

SCENE I 

[Athelney. Serfs are carrying loads to a barn near the 
King's Camp.] 

FIRST SERF 

Fetch me a hunk of salted flitch y 

And ajtig of sweetened ale. 
And off I trudge to bank the ditch , 

Or bang about the flail. 
Who recks of summer sweat and swink. 

Or winter's icy pang? 
Tilt tip the mug, my mates, and drink, 

And let the world go hang. 
Go hang, 

And let the world go hang! 
35 



36 ENGLAND'S DARLING act ii 

SECOND SERF 

Now i youngsters, snap the fallen sticks, 

Now, hearthwife, boil the pot, 
For we have thatched the barley ricks, 

And ploughed the gafol plot. 
The shepherd'' s star begins to wink, 

The she-wolf whets her fang; 
Up with the mead-bowl, mates, and drink. 

And let the world go hang. 
Go hang, 

And let the world go hang! 

THIRD SERF 

'Tis but a lean life we lead in Athelney. More 
tuns of marsh water, I warrant, than combs of smooth 
ale. 

FIRST SERF 

Aye, and with sopping sedge to lie on, o* nights. 
But, after bearing planks to make ready the Witan for 
the King and the King's thanes, one 'ud sleep on a 
midden heap, were it dead froze. But that's done 
with ; and now to stack all this gear afore noon. 
[Alfred, still disguised as a peasant, passes by.] 



SCENE I ENGLAND'S DARLING 37 

SECOND SERF {tO AlFRED) 

Lend us a hand, gaffer, with this amber o' meal ; 
none o' your sharps nor dog-bran, but real Earl's 
barley-meal, white as an Easter smock. 
[Alfred helps, first one, then the other, in carrying the loads.] 

THIRD SERF 

They won't starve, anyhow. Ten score ambers 
have been lodged in the King's Barn, since rising- 
time, along with two dozen staters of cheese. 

FIRST SERF 

Aye, and more weys of bacon than I have fingers 
to score with, and gafolwood enow to brew as many 
combs of ale as 'ud drown all the Danes in Wessex. 

SECOND SERF 

Trust Alfred for sousing them less wastefuUy nor 
that, before gangdays come round anew. {To 
Alfred.) Why, thou has more thews than any 
twain of us, though thou'rt not goodly grown, nor 
seemst fit for bearing loads. But thou liftst with a 
will. 



38 ENGLAND^S DARLING act ii 

ALFRED 

'Tis the will does half the work. Heave but with 
the heart, and no sack feels heavy. 

FIRST SERF 

And here are clews of net yarn for the weaving 
women, that no hands hang idle in Alfred's Camp. 

ALFRED 

Am I free to go, masters ? 

SECOND SERF 

Aye, as free as a boor may fare. 

[Alfred leaves them.] 

THIRD SERF 

He's a rare hand at a pack, though we top him by 
a poll. 

The hogs are nosing in the mast. 

The tegs are iii the fold ^ 
The norland flakes are flying f asf^ 
And 0^ Uis nipping cold. 



SCENE I ENGLAND'S DARLING 39 

So let us to the steading slink. 

Still trolling as we gang. 
Now is the time for meat and drink. 

So let the world go hang, 
Go hang, 

So let the world go hang I 

FIRST SERF 

An awry song for the lambing season, and with 
the cuckoo a-chuckling over the foster hedge- 
sparrow. 

THIRD SERF 

No song's out o' season that cheers a man up. 
There's more warmth in an old song than in green 
faggots. 

SECOND SERF 

Aye, and singing's a posset that suits summer and 
winter alike. They say Alfred the King wrote rare 
ditties before the Army broke out anew; though 
more anent spear-thrusts than tankards. But gam- 
mer rhymes are well enough for honest churls. 



40 ENGLAND'S DARLING act il 

SCENE II 

[The King's Chamber.] 
ETHELNOTH 

Still, Alfred comes not. 

PLEGMUND 

He is sure to come 
Ere to the socket burns this rushlight down. 
He never wantoned with his word, nor now 
Will prove untrue to it. 

ETHELNOTH 

Not if he live. 
Nor if he still be free to come. But how 
If eyes as searching as his own have stripped 
From off his kingly gait the peasant's smock. 
And even now within the Danish lines 
He dwells a bondman. 

ETHELRED 

Out ! They will as soon 
Twine leathern thongs about the nimble air 



SCENE II ENGLAND'S DARLING 41 

As net him in their toils. Ne'er would they guess 
There moves the man so reckless as to range 
Unshielded 'mid his foes, scenting their trail 
Close as a sleuth-hound. 

[Alfred enters.] 

Ethelnoth, the King ! 
[They make obeisance.] 

ALFRED 

Yes, I am back, my wistful friends, but not 
Ere I have marked where the false Guthrum folds 
His savage flock, and whither next he wends, 
Seeking fresh pasture ; aye, and every track. 
Here through the forest, there along the stream, 
And clear beyond between the dimpled downs, 
That, twisting hither and thither, will lead at length 
To covert hollow, whence, with God for guide, 
We may upon their present fastness spring. 
And send them flying hearthless as the wind, 
Over the waste they have made. 

ETHELNOTH 

Thank Heaven ! you are safe, 
Nor for such wayward danger paid with life. 



42 ENGLAND'S DARLING act ii 



ALFRED 

And if I had ! 'Tis not for length of days, 

No, but for breadth of days that we should crave. 

Life is God's gift for godlike purposes. 

'Tis the mere die we play with ; that which counts 

Is the high stake of honour that we throw for. 

And for such worthy gamesters Heaven provides. 

Not in safe coffer should we lock our lives, 

But put them out to peril, that our sons 

May be the richer for the stake we won. 

Withal, my shrewd Archbishop, 'tis allowed, 

When dangerous duty doth not bid us spend 

Life without thought or reckoning, 'tis so short, 

Well must it be to use it thriftily ; 

So for your helpful hands is further work. 

To eke out mine, still hampered by the sword. 

Aid me ; nay, mend me ; for my lesser skill 

Needs your large craft. Pope Gregory's Pastoral, 

We call his Hindbook in our English tongue, 

Worcester's good Bishop, Were frith, will revise. 

And I myself must follow, when I may, 

Wulfstan and Othere through those norward seas 

Whence came our fathers on their flashing oars, 



SCENE II ENGLAND'S DARLING 43 

And with their Finnish voyages enrich 

The pages of Orosius. Unto you 

The harder task, to render faithfully 

The Consolations of Philosophy, 

Where I have missed what sage Boethius means. 

O Plegmmid ! Plegmund ! Sore is it to scan, 

As yesternight I did, in Alcuin's verse, 

The list of Latin texts once housed in York, 

The envy of the Frankish Emperor, 

Great Charles himself, now wandering on the winds, 

Or fuel for the fire of these rude Danes, 

But all of them to be some day replaced 

By God's good help and yours, and written plain 

In Saxon speech for English boys to read. 

And thereby understand, though, unlike me, 

They may not journey thither, that which Rome 

Did and still does to better man. But now, 

The dwindling rushlight in the lanthorn shows 

We must unto the Witan. Ethelnoth, 

Com.e to my side, and you too, Ethelred, 

Both craftier with the sword than with the pen. 

And help me both with presence and with voice 

To rouse my people from their peaceful hives, 

And make them swarm for battle ! 



44 ENGLAND'S DARLING act ii 



SCENE III 

[The Witanagemote. Alfred, wearing a circlet of gold round 
his head, and bearing in his hand a wand, is seated on a 
high oaken settle, with Edward standing on his right. 
Round him are his Reeves, Thanes, and chief Ealdormen ; 
Plegmund, Archbishop of Canterbury ; Werefrith, 
Bishop of Worcester, and Grimbald, his Mass-priest. In 
the enclosed space are congregated the lesser Ealdormen 
and their followers, the armed Freemen. Behind, at a 
little distance, stand the short-haired unarmed Serfs. The 
Queen and her daughter Ethelfrida, followed by a train 
of noble maidens, carry the mead-bowl round to the Thanes 
and Ealdormen.] 

FIRST FREEMAN 

He looks like Justice throned. 

SECOND FREEMAN 

And such he is, 
And hither will none hie to press their claim, 
Save it be true ; for Alfred's gaze can pierce 
Through densest fogs of falsehood and uncloak 
Each hireling lie. 

THIRD FREEMAN 

Withal, how mild his look. 
A mother's eyes are not more moist with love 



SCENE III ENGLAND'S DARLING 45 

Than his, when they are fixed upon his son, 
The stalwart Athehng. 

FOURTH FREEMAN 

Yet is he stem 
As Ethelnoth himself, if he but mark 
Some blemish on a forehead unabashed. 
I would as lief face God, were I to blame, 
As stand, for fault stripped bare, before the King. 

FIRST FREEMAN 

Can it be true that he as lettered is 
As Grimbald's self ? 

SECOND FREEMAN 

Aye, ever since the day . 
He learned the book of pictured Saxon verse 
Quickest of all his brothers, he hath stored 
His mind with written lore. 

THIRD FREEMAN 

I mind me, too. 
How in his boyhood was there none more deft 
To cope a haggard peregrine, to knit 



46 ENGLAND'S DARLING act ll 

The bewits to the bells, or smoothly swing 
The feathered lure around his head until 
The unseamed falcon learned to wing its way 
Over the herons homing up the wind, 
And, binding, rake its quarry to the ground. 

FOURTH FREEMAN 

Aye, and I warrant he could still unhood 
A cast, and send them flying on the chase. 
As he will stoop upon the Danes, and force 
Their filthy pannels to disgorge the food 
Poached in our English pools. 

FIRST FREEMAN 

In every art 
He shows the way. Woodcraft and masonry, 
Shoesmith or wheelwright, all are one to him. 
He throws the buttressed bridge across the stream, 
And plans the sinewy curve of each fresh keel 
That bears the roving ramparts of the realm. 
Unto the goldsmith's dainty handiwork 
He lends his counsel, even while he broods 
On the rough shifts and sudden wants of war. 
Never, like Buhred, would he quit the land, 



SCENE III ENGLAND'S DARLING 47 

Came every Danish oarsman oversea 
To hem us in. 



SECOND FREEMAN 

Hush ! He anon will speak. 

ALFRED {I'ising) 
Ealdormen, and Thanes, and Free Men all, 
Whom here I see, banded in battle-gear, 
Kin of my sceptre, helpmates of my sword. 
To you I come, your King and Overlord, 
Offering and seeking wisdom. Let them speak, 
So that they fight, both when and how they will. 
And only those stand husht who bear no spear. 
For 'twere unmeet that those who in a State 
Wield no more worthy weapon than the tongue. 
Should have or voice or share in ruling it. 
In Witanagemote and Folkmote both. 
More royal-rich than these marsh fastnesses, 
In better days we have met. But let none think 
That I am less a King or you more base. 
That of such trappings we awhile are scant 
As Peace can hang about a Ruler's hearth. 
For he still reigns whose mind is not dethroned, 



48 ENGLAND'S DARLING act n 

And, though marauders ravage half his realm, 
Upholds unserfed the Sceptre of his soul. 
Kings there have been, aye and of Cerdic's blood, 
With Woden's thunder moaning in their veins. 
Who, even as Ine, doffed a doleful Crown, 
Donning the cowl. I shall not do Uke these. 
What though I found within the royal bed, 
Where I had lain with this my cleanly Queen, 
Littered, the farrow of a forest sow, 
Should I bemoan the fashion of the world. 
Tonsure the head Pope Leo's very hand 
Anointed kingly, and slink hence to Rome 
A niddering pilgrim? Never, while you stand 
Steadfast about me ! Nay, if you should leave 
The Crown of Egbert fenceless on my brow, 
It should not fall till I had fallen too. 
And gone to God to answer for my Rule, 
As every shriven soul must answer Him 
Whose Sceptre doth not pass. Tell me then, now, 
Free Men of Hampshire, Devon, Somerset, 
Here mustered in your Hundreds, do you will 
That we fare forth anew unto the field, 
To put it to the proof of life and death. 
If this fair isle be Guthrum's land or ours? 



SCENE III ENGLAND'S DARLING 49 

Freemen (clashing their shears) 
Aye ! Aye ! 

ALFRED 

You answer as beseemeth those that clung 
Close to my side at Ashdune on the day 
When Ethelred, my brother, now with God, 
Lingered at mass, and the rough Danish King, 
Barsac, along with Osbern, Harold, Frene, 
And the two Sidracs, lay upon their backs, 
And never stood up more ; aye, and who took 
Their share with me in those eight sinewy shocks 
At Merton, Reading, Wilton, Englefield, 
Within one year, whereby, when first I wore 
The kingly crown, Guthrum and Oskytel 
Swore not alone on relics of the saints. 
But on their pagan bracelet smeared with blood. 
In sacrifice, the pledges now they break. 
Their hostages I hold, but 'tis not meet 
That upon these should fall the Christian sword ; 
And, spared, they now fain fight upon our side, 
Betraying their betrayers. But there be 
Others, unfree, withal for whom Christ died. 
Into whose hands I will entrust the spear, 

E 



50 ENGLAND'S DARLING act ll 

So they will thrust for England, and your voice 
Says aye to mine. 

Freemen {clashing their spears) 
Aye ! Aye ! 

ALFRED {to the Serfs) 

Therefore, in this free Witan, I decree, 
Weaponless men, that you be weaponed now ; 
And, should you fall, your offspring shall be free, 
And offspring's offspring, and their locks shall float 
Over their necks by no base burden bowed. 
Nor yet of these alone I snap the chain ; 
But unto you, the tonsured serfs of God, 
I stretch my hand, and bid you, I your King, 
To do as Toli at Kesteven did. 
When Hingvar's pagan bands, with Hubba's horde. 
Moved against Croyland, now alas ! their prey : 
The layman's sword he buckled to his frock, 
And with the battle-axe avenged the Cross. 
Do you as he, and with a better doom, 
Reclaiming Croyland, Ely, Huntingdon, 
For pious peace, such as at Glastonbury 



SCENE III ENGLAND'S DARLING 5^ 

Still happily abides. Yet, since the land 
Which bred you, suckled you, and fosters now, 
Hath upon all male thews this righteous toll, 
More needful is it still that they whom God 
Shaped to be nests and nourishers of Ufa, 
Should double now their song and suit to Heaven 
For England's weal. Therefore, my Wife, depart. 
With all white souls that wilUng wend with you. 
Unto the eastern gate of Shaftesbury, 
And build you there a nunnery whose vows 
May win the deathless Overlord of War 
To lead our van in fight, and fence our rear. 
I have your leave for this. Lady and Wife, 
Whom still a silent helpmate at my side. 
And by that silence keeping me more strong, 
I pray to have, till strength avails no more. 
And, though my grandsire Egbert left his land 
To those that wield the spear, and not to those 
That ply the distaff, and his law stands mine, 
To you, in endless token of the trust 
That you have had in me, and I in you, 
I do bequeathe Wantage and Athelney, 
My cradle, and my refuge, in this war. 
To hold as free as you have held my love. 



52 ENGLAND'S DARLING act ii 

And may the bane of Christ and all His Saints 
Blind him that setteth it aside ! 

[The Queen, Ethelfrida, and their handmaidens, depart. 
As they pass out, Asser, followed by a group of Welsh 
Chieftains, enters.] 

ALFRED 

But who 
Breaks in upon our Mote ? 

[Recognising Asser.] 

Right welcome guest ! 

Asser, my own true Asser, light in dark, 

Friend, teacher, trusty in all thought and deed ! 

[Alfred descends from his kingly settle, embraces AssER, and 
leads him to a seat at his side.] 

Whence come you, and these dark outlandish men, 
That hang upon your heel, as though afeard 
To lose the claim of service, and to fall 
Forfeit to foes ? Tell them they here are safe 
As at God's altar. 

ASSER 

Loving Lord and King, 
My pupil, yet my master, these scared men 
Are gentle in their blood, of princely birth, 



SCENE III ENGLAND^S DARLING 53 

Sons of King Mouric, Tendyr, Hemrid, Ris, 
Who now on-this-side Britain wield the rod. 
They from Demetria followed me, their guide, 
To crave your overlordship in their land 
Against the unrulier Welsh that harry it, 
Leagued with the Danish robbers of the main. 

ALFRED 

Asser ! to bring good tidings ever first, 

You never brought me blither news than this. 

Bid them be seated, — aye, more near to me, — 

And tell them in their tongue, till they learn ours 

Which it will be your happy lot to teach. 

That in this Island there must be one lord. 

One law, one speech, one bond of blood between 

Saxon and Briton, and that Wales must be 

Not more nor less than England, but the same. 

Their will is still their own, to go or stay. 

But, on the word and promise of a King, 

So they will aid me to beset the foe, 

And we together conquer, they shall dwell. 

They and their kindred, free among their hills, 

Fenced beyond heathen ravin by my sword. 



54 ENGLAND'S DARLING act ii 

[Again addressing the Witanagemote.] 

Gone are the women. None but men stand here, 
And but to men and manly ears I speak. 
You know my law, whereby, one half the year. 
Each one may keep his hearth and till his land. 
Eschewing for that while the toll of war, 
But, when the time is past, he must anew 
Take shield and spear ; and some of you there be 
Who now afresh have claim to put these off, 
And back unto their homesteads ; and the law, 
The law shall stand, if 'tis their will to go. 
Never shall law be broken in this land. 
Leastways by me : so speak who claim to go, 
And nurse a liking for the coward's doom, 
A grave of mire, with hurdle over it. 

[They all remain silent.] 
ALFRED 

Nay, but I will not shame you into right. 
Nor in the deadly fellowship of war 
Have at my side unwilling guide-brothers. 
Therefore I say to all, to those that hold 
Five hides of land and owe me service for it. 



SCENE III ENGLAND'S DARLING 55 

Earl and ceorl, tithing — hundred — man, 

Franklin and yeoman, ploughman, goatherd, sower, 

Hayward and woodward, all that liefer would 

Earn with their sweat what they might win with blood, 

You all are free to go, and in the fight 

We will make boot without you. House-carles shall 

Fill up the gap you leave. 

Freemen 

We all will stay. 

ALFRED 

Then pledge me in the mead-bowl, spearmen all. 
Me, your host-leader ! While that Ethelred, 
My brother, lived, I bowed to him as King, 
Though by my father's will I might have claimed 
Rule over Kent ; and this I did because 
'Twas best for England, and for England now 
Is it not best I be your Overlord ? 

Freemen {sirikiiig their shields 7vith their spears) 
Aye ! A3'e ! 

Alfredl Alfred! 
Lord of England I 
England's comfort I 



56 ENGLAND'S DARLING act ii 

Engla?id's shepherd! 
England's darling! 
Alfred! Alfred! 

ALFRED 

Now tell them, Werefrith, that whoever falls 
Fighting for England, soul-shot sure shall be, 
And wend him straight from battle-doom to Christ. 
[All kneel, and Werefrith blesses them.] 



SCENE IV 

[Alfred's Study. Alfred is shaping models of long-oared 
boats, meant to cope with the Danish esks.] 

ALFRED 

Not till the Sea hath owned us for its lord, 
Will England's shore be free. Hence must we lay 
Our rod along the waters till it stretch 
Wide as they welter, further than they foam. 
Who holds the sea, perforce doth hold the land, 
And who lose that must lose the other too. 
When wave on wave gleams crested with a foe, 
And billows given for safety gape with doom 
And ruin for the redeless. Right meseem 



SCENE IV ENGLAND'S DARLING $7 

Stem, stern, and keel, nigh twice the bulk of those 
The Frisians use, and with a sharper sweep. 
God grant that I may chase them from the seas. 
And gird this island with a watery belt 
Not all the world in arms can cleave or cross ! 
[Enter the Atheling.] 

EDWARD 

Unto your bidding. Father, am I come. 

ALFRED 

Where were you, Edward, yesterday at noon? 

EDWARD 

In Selwood Forest, in its very heart, 

Hard by the clearing round the hut where dwells 

The neatherd Danewulf. 

ALFRED 

And why went you there? 

EDWARD 

To greet the loveliest maiden in the land. 
Forgive me, Sir ! but oh, if you could see 
How fair, how 



58 ENGLAND'S DARLING act ii 

ALFRED 

Hold ! enough ! A fault avowed 
Is sooth a fault forgiven. Bating untruth, 
There is no blot I could not brook in you, 
Hoping to mend it. For remember, Edward ! 
Truth is the free man's weapon, and a lie 
Makes him unfree and sinks him to the serf. 
I would that in this land, which some day will 
Be happier far than I or you can make it. 
Truth should be deemed the first and last of virtues. 
For truth is justice, fairness, fearlessness, 
And is to man as honesty to woman; 
And I would liefer see you hewn to death 
By pagan battle-axe than soil your lips 
With craven paltering. But, Edward, Edward, 
Though lust is not so base as is a lie. 
It ofttimes leads thereto ; and, even when 
It wants that last worst shame, what bane it brings 
On households and on kingdoms ! Well you know 
What brought the perjured Guthrum to this land, 
Lured oversea by Biorn Butsecarl, 
To be avenged on the adulterous King, 
Northumbrian Osberht. 

[Edward is about to speak.] 



SCENE IV ENGLAND^S DARLING 59 

Nay, but let me tell, 
For your soul's hale, that in my own hot youth 
Flesh with the spirit was so sore at war, 
I prayed to God He would in kindness send 
Some sickness that might chasten this base fire, 
And make me rule-worthy ; for he who lives 
Thrall unto fleshly bondage is not fit 
To be the lord of others ; and God sent 
A scourge so sharp, that I again besought 
Some milder stroke, — not blindness, leprosy, 
Nor any hurt unworthy of a King, — 
And in His goodness He then laid on me 
The burden that you know. 

EDWARD 

Father, I swear. 
My love for this fair maiden is as clean 
As her unblemished soul, and I would fain, 
Having your yea, still woo her for my wife. 
Nay, but still hear me, you that ever were 
Suffering and mild, bUthesome and good to me, 
Let me go fetch and bring her to your feet ! 
The coralled hawthorn in the wayside brake, 
When Autumn winds have blown the leaves away, 



6o ENGLAND'S DARLING act ii 

Hath not the ruddy ripeness of her lips. 
June's bluebells are not heavenlier than her eyes, 
Nor than her cheek more dewy, and her voice, — 
The woodwete's is no sweeter when it soars, 
And we look up to hear it ! 

ALFRED 

Need is none 
To tell me that. I heard it yesterday. 
Between the whiles you wantoned in the wood, 
And heeded not the King that crossed your path, 
In tattered seeming. 

EDWARD 

Your forgiveness. Father ! 

ALFRED 

Rise, boy ! Your love is loyal ; and no maid, 
That, bred on English soil and fain to bide 
By English hearthfire, hath not in her blood 
The blur of bondage, can be held unmeet 
To grace the bed and settle of a King. 
But, Edward, can it be, in these mirk days, 
You dally in the dreamy ways of love. 



SCENE IV ENGLAND'S DARLING 6i 

Now that your one fast thought by day, your one 
Fond hope when moist sleep loosens all your limbs, 
Should be for England ! England, none but Englanc 
Clean or unclean, this is no time for love. 
Where is your sword ? I'll have no Atheling 
Lulled in the sleek and sleepy lap of love, 
When every heart-beat in his body should 
Hasten the hour for death-grip with the Dane ! 
[Enter a Messenger.] 

MESSENGER 

A Danish girl, seen slinking by the stream 

Trod by your outmost watches, hath been brought 

Into the camp, and claims to see the King. 



Let her within. 



ALFRED 

[Edgiva enters.] 
EDGIVA 

Edward ! 

EDWARD {to Edgiva) 

The King ! 
[Edgiva kneels.] 



62 ENGLAND'S DARLING act ii 

ALFRED {to Edward, sternly) 

Go hence ! 
[Edward quits the King's presence.] 

ALFRED 

Rise, child ! But wherefore pry you in our land. 
So straitened now, that all beyond it feeds 
The heathen Army ? 

EDGIVA 

But I did not pry. 
I am as true to Alfred and his name, 
As they that roughly clutched and dragged me here, 
Because of Danish bracelet round my wrist ; 
And, since they would not harken, but led on 
My footsteps hitherward, I claimed to see 
Yourself, the King, and tell you all my tale. 

ALFRED 

Tell it me, then. 

EDGIVA 

Who was it that you chid 
Out of your sight ? 



SCENE IV ENGLAND'S DARLING 63 

ALFRED 

My son, the Atheling. 



EDGIVA 



Oh! 



[She covers her face.] 
Why did he come into my lowly life, 
And with his April sunshine cozen it 
To blossom back to his ! It was not worthy. 
I pray you, let me fare unto my home, 
To Danewulf and my mother, where I may 
Forget him utterly, and never more 
Hear words of fond untruth. 

ALFRED 

Blame him not thus ! 
He is my son, and, never since he learned 
From Saxon mother this our Saxon tongue, 
Or spake or thought untruth. He loves too well, 
And hence it was I drove him from your sight. 

EDGIVA 

'Twas all unwitting that I gave him first 
A love-tryst in the forest. Had I known ! 



64 ENGLAND'S DARLING act ii 

But now meseems I know not what I know, 
Save that I never will behold him more. 
Nay, be a King ! and send me to my home ! 

ALFRED 

We'll think of that to-morrow. For to-night, 
You needs must lie in Athelney. But, child, 
What sought you when our wardens, overwise, 
As witlessness oft is, enforced you here ? 

EDGIVA 

It was the path whereby he went when last 
He looked farewell, and so I trod the place, 
Because it seemed to bring me nearer to him ; 
And, as I did so, luckless that I am, 
I dropped and lost upon the river bank. 
Or maybe in the stream, the crystal token 
Given me by hoary wanderer who had sought 
Rest in our hut, and promised, should I seek 
His dwelling with that earnest, he would teach me 
To spell and read, and make me learned and wise. 
Now is it lost, and everything is lost. 
And I shall know nor love nor learning now. 



SCENE IV ENGLAND'S DARLING 65 

ALFRED 

Would you that withered master know again? 

EDGIVA 

Sooth, that I should ! I never can forget 
His look, his voice. His speech was like to yours, 
But he was gone in years, and on his brow 
Their snows had drifted. 

ALFRED 

Maiden, it was I, 
Whose business 'tis to learn what mischief may 
Be brewing on our borders, so awhile 
Misfeatured thus ; and you have nothing lost, 
Saving the jewel, easily forgone. 
And somewhere lost for other days to find, 
Time-token of the trouble England bore, 
And, bearing, yet will better. I myself. 
True to my word, will teach your tongue to read. 
And you teach Edward more than thus you learn, — 
Since household lore the truest wisdom is, — 
When War's loud shuttle shall have woven peace. 
And in this England all who love may live 



66 ENGLAND'S DARLING act ii 

As safe as nest of whinchat in the brake. 

But, child, not now, not now ! For never think, 

Until the howling pack of Pagan wolves 

Are flogged to heel or scattered oversea, 

To Hft and lay your arms about his neck, 

Whose service lies elsewhere ! What ho ! without. 

[An attendant enters.] 

Unto our Lady lead this guest, and say 

It is the bidding of the King she be 

With the handmaidens pillowed for the night. 



END OF ACT U 



ACT III 



ACT III 

SCENE I 



[The Fens north-east of Athelney. The Atheling and EdgivA 
on the water ; Edward rowing, Edgiva steering.] 

EDGIVA 

It might be March, not May, so crisp the wind 
Curls the sleek water, and besets the keel, 
Driving it slantwise. 

EDWARD 

Then, sweet, keep her straight. 
For, says the King, pondering on mightier things, 
Face a head gust and it will steady you. 
See ! 'tis nor May nor March, but April's self, 
That runs along the ripples of the mere. 
Sunning gray wrinkles into golden smiles. . . . 
Look ! look 1 

69 



70 ENGLAND'S DARLING ACT lii 

EDGIVA 

Whatwas't? 

EDWARD 

A feeding kingfisher 
Jewelled the au: a moment, and is gone. 

EDGIVA 

As you are going ! 

EDWARD 

Nay, sweet, not for long. 
Let us but root the heathen from the isle. 
And then once more we many a time and oft 
Will in the dark-green gloamings of moist May 
Link hands in silence. 

EDGIVA 

Can you hit the spot 
Where we must meet the King? 

EDWARD 

Aye, to a rood. 
'Tis hard beyond where now the wild swans breed : 



SCENE I ENGLAND'S DARLING 71 

She with husht pinions furled upon the nest, 
He tacking fierce, and shrilUng through his sails 
Against intruding footstep. 

EDGIVA 

Have a care ! 
The water waxeth shallower, and ahead 
The reedmace stouter grows. 

EDWARD 

I mind them well. 
How often have I crushed their crackling stems, 
Sered by the wind and manacled in ice, 
When first we came to crouch in Athelney ! 
There's not a tangle in this stubborn world 
I had not pushed through then, for straight my will 
Was straining to your threshold ! O, how long 
Remorseful Winter, wishing to be Spring, 
Kept feebly slipping back from sun to cloud. 
From bud to snowflake ! Now 'tis May ! 'tis May ! 
The Mother-month that fosters all things good. 
And, with the white renewal of the thorn, 
Arrays our hearts for battle ! 



72 ENGLAND'S DARLING act iii 

EDGIVA 

Not for me ! 
Nay, but I would not have it otherwise. 
Love England first, Edgiva afterward. 
Till Peace shall make them twin. Why hath the King 
Laid this great meed on my unworth, that now 
We wend together unto Guthrum's camp, 
Minstrel and daughter? I am sore afeard. 
Not of the danger, — danger there is none 
With him to lead, — no, but of his high thoughts 
And my mean mind to mate them. 

EDWARD 

Have no fear. 
Though low unto the lofty may not reach, 
The lofty to the low doth easy stoop : 
Beside, my father loves you. 

EDGIVA 

For your sake. 

EDWARD 

Nay, but I know he loves you for your own ; 
And sure in love is neither high nor low. 



SCENE I ENGLAND'S DARLING ^z 

But even only. More : he needs your help, 
In that vexed country that you roamed a child 
Ere Danewulf changed his lord, and came to dwell 
Nigher to Athelney ; where Deverel dips 
Dark underground to suckle Wiley's stream, 
And Egbert's Stone remains a mark unmoved 
By war or time. 

EDGIVA 

How well I can recall 
Each runnel, thicket, clearing, garth, and stead, 
Lowland and upland, dimple in the hills, 
As free from fear as I who gazed at them. 
To think that I should live to help the King ! 
There is a lofty sorrow in his gaze. 
Like to the moon, high up in Heaven alone. 

EDWARD 

Be you the star tending his loneliness. 

EDGIVA 

I never could be that, but sometimes hope 
He may deign weep, that I may stay his tears. 



74 ENGLAND'S DARLING act in 

EDWARD 

Nay, never think to see him weep or wail ! 

Like clouds that are not low enough for rain, 

His grief is far too high to fall in tears. 

But now, please Heaven, his woe shall roll away, 

And only sunshine sit on Alfred's brow. 

But hush ! we near the place. By Nicor's Thorn 

The King awaits me. Bide you by the bank 

Till I wend back to you. 

[He leaps from the boat, fastens it to the shore, helps 
Edgiva to land, then leaves her.] 

SCENE II 

[Nicor's Thorn.] 

ALFRED {addressing Edward) 

Hold fast by that. Bring but the best to front. 
And keep the unsteady well in hand behind. 
'Tis not the biggest udder gives most milk ; 
And with a trusty handful one may deal 
A deadlier stroke than with a land in arms. 
Husband these likewise, and ferment their hearts 
With eagerness themselves to rise to best. 



SCENE II ENGLAND'S DARLING 75 

By showing them what manhood ripe can do. 

Our Saxon spearmen you may trust to stand, 

Though falls their lord. Yourself must lead the Celts, 

And they will then make merry mock of death. 

But, on the way, be lord of their loose wills, 

And keep them silent as the disciplined stars : 

Nor let them thunder till you've lightened, lest 

The foe, forewarned, find shelter from the bolt. 

Be mindful, too, to leave no tell-tale trail. 

Learn wisdom from the blind and witless mole, 

That self-discovering burrower that upheaves 

The ground wherethrough he travels, and for that 

Is easy trapped. Guthrum and Oskytel 

Yet He at Ethandune, keeping no watch, 

But waste the weeks in rest and rioting, 

Deeming I still am fast in Athelney. 

Edgiva knows each winding of the ways 

That creep unto their camp. Fear not for us. 

But do my bidding to the uttermost. 

Hear you nought more, be sure that, when the sun 

Hath thrice upon the heathen Army set, 

We twain shall be within. So, when the night 

Throbs unto dawn, and the May moon turns pale 

Because her lord is coming, then shrill loud 



^(^ ENGLAND'S DARLING act iii 

With noise of battle, and strike straight where waves 

The unclean Raven over Guthrum's tent. 

Till then, farewell ! Remember Who you are, 

And Who you will be ! Mereward wend you now 

Unto Edgiva. Dally not, but bend 

Hither her feet. Then swift unto your oars. 

And speed where all that's best in England waits you. 

God edge your sword ! 



SCENE III 

EDWARD 

Nay, you must wend alone. The King is stern, 
And bids me speed. One kiss, and then farewell. 

[He leaps into the boat.] 
EDGIVA 

If you are slain ! 

EDWARD 

Then we shall meet in Heaven ! 
If not, keep tryst with love at Ethandune. 



SCENE IV ENGLAND'S DARLING 77 



SCENE IV. 

[In Selwood Forest. Alfred teaching Edgiva to read.] 

ALFRED 

Now must we up and forward. You have threshed 
Enough to-day to garner till to-morrow. 

EDGIVA 

I would that I were not so slow of wit. 

ALFRED 

And I were happy if my people could 

Learn half as sharply. Well, they shall, some day. 

But in these cloudy times men's thoughts fly low, 

And soar not mindward. . . . 

How I remember my dear Mother bringing 

Unto my brothers and myself a book, 

Saying it should be his who spelled it first ; 

And by God's pleasure, fell the book to me, — 

Too late a scholar ! No such friend as books. 

For they with unreproachful looks and lips 

Bear with our going, greet us when we come, 

Misunderstood bewail not, ne'er upbraid 



78 ENGLAND'S DARLING ACT ill 

Though we be dull, and teach without a rod. 

When you shall sit below your sceptred lord, 

Lead him to honour books, and those who write them, 

For to his people an unlettered King 

Is as a lanthorn lacking of its light. 

EDGIVA 

I will be mindful. Tell me more of Rome, 
Whereof we read but now. 

ALFRED 

I was a child, 
With stammering tongue and half-awakened gaze. 
When Ethelred, my father, now with God, 
Bore me to Rome. But, an I close mine eyes, 
I can behold, in dream as clear as day. 
Its hills, and all the wonders throned upon them. 
Rome once was Overlord to all the world, 
But not for Empire now, nay, for bare life, 
Is ofttimes hard beset : a fallen Rome, 
Yet awful in its fall ; bemocked and scourged. 
Humbled and thorn-crowned, as meseems is fit 
For Christ's own city, mastering still mankind 
By the rood-token of His martydom. 



SCENE IV ENGLAND'S DARLING 79 

My father gave a hundred mancuses 

For oil wherewith to keep the lamp alight 

By Peter's tomb from Easter Eve till dawn, 

As I too will, when better days shall come. 

For 'tis my wish to see, in this strong land, 

A manly State wed to a wifely Church, 

The helpmeet this, but that one still the lord. 

For, as the woman, so too is the Church 

Of a diviner nature, but on earth 

They should but meekly counsel, then obey. 

[They walk on in silence.] 
ALFRED 

Wot you the hour ? 

EDGIVA 

It must be long past noon, 
Because the shepherd's weather-wise hath shut, 
As doth the goatsbeard in the waning year. 

ALFRED 

That is a lore not to be had from books. 

Withal more helpful. Know you all the flowers? 



8o ENGLAND'S DARLING act iii 

EDGIVA 

All were too many. Some there be I know, 
Taught me by Danewulf and my foster-mother. 
She tells their uses, he their home and name. 
Is that a wound you have upon your hand ? 

ALFRED 

'Tis but a scratch I haply got that day 
I cheered me by your hearth. 

EDGIVA 

Nay, show it me. 
Lay but the plantain-leaf upon the wound. 
By Danewulf waybread cleped, 'twill cure it straight 

ALFRED 

There's nothing wasteful in this housewife world, 
Would men themselves be heedful. I have heard 
Cider gone sour will scour the foul egg white. 

EDOrVA 

I've seen my mother do't a score of times. 

ALFRED 

Tell me what else she doth with leaves and simples. 



SCENE IV ENGLAND'S DARLING 8i 

EDGIVA 

With pewterwort she burnishes the pans, 

Makes lye of betony to soothe the brow, 

And heaHng salve from early primroses. 

She steeps for Danewulf leaves of ladysmock. 

For they keep strong the heart ; fresh woodruff soaks" 

To brew cool drink, and keep away the moth ; 

And, in the month when earth and sky are one, 

Squeezes the bluebell 'gainst the adder's bite. 

With windflower honey are my tresses smoothed, 

My freckles with the speedwell's juices washed. 

And sleepy breath made sweet with galingale. 

ALFRED 

Nay, you should leave the freckles, since begot 
By sun and wind, an honourable birth ; 
And Edward in his love- dream swears you are 
As freckled as the foxglove, and as fair. 

EDGIVA 

What, my dear lord, is that? 

ALFRED 

Nay, but you know it. 
Look ! there is one, half-blown before its time. 

G 



82 ENGLAND'S DARLING act iii 

EDGIVA 

We call that thimble-flower. 

ALFRED 

A better name, 
As all names are, when given by simple lips. 
How call you this ? 

EDGIVA 

We call it golden-withy. 
This is bog-asphodel the Danish Jarls 
Cull, so they say, to dye their yellow hair. 
And this is Baldmoyne. 

ALFRED 

From great Balder named, 
The son of Odin. 

EDGIVA 

Which, when steeped with hop, 
Makes bright and brisk strong ale. 

ALFRED 

Now name me this. 



SCENE IV ENGLAND'S DARLING 83 

EDGIVA 

Milkwort, or gang- flower. 

ALFRED 

Which the learned call 
Rogation-Flower. 

EDGIVA 

And this? This is the spearmint 
That steadies giddiness, and that the consound, 
Whereby the lungs are eased of their grief. 
The eyebright this, whereof, when steeped in wine, 
I now must eat, as every learner should, 
Because it strengthens mindfulness. 

ALFRED 

Daughter mine. 
You have as much to teach as to be taught ; 
Nor let new learning drive old lore away. 
Rashly I spoke : There is a better friend, 
A better, and a truer, even than books. 
'Tis with us now, God's plainly written page. 
For learned and simple, all may read who will. 



84 ENGLAND'S DARLING act iii 

SCENE V 

[Evening in the Forest.] 
EDGIVA 

The goldings by the brooklet all are closed. 
'Twill soon be nightfall. 

ALFRED 

And, like them, your lids 
Droop on your eyes. 'Tis time for you to rest. 

EDGIVA 

First let me smooth for you a mossy bed. 
Under this oak. 

ALFRED 

Think not, my child, of me ; 
For I am wakeful, and there yet is Hght 
Whereby to read a little. But your Hmbs 
Are fain to doff the heavy load of day. 
And sink upon their weariness. Lie there, 
Within the hollow of that puckered yew. 
Whose boughs hath fashioned many a Saxon bow. 



SCENE V ENGLAND'S DARLING 85 

EDGIVA 

They say the Virgin Mother sought its shade, 
Fleeing to Egypt ; so no bolt will smite 
Its hallowed trunk. 

[She falls asleep.] 
ALFRED 

Already doth she dream, 
Way-weary child. 

[He places a posy of cowslips in her hand.] 

These sleepy cowslip bells 

Will keep her dream-lids drowsy till the dawn. 

****** 
How many hands it takes to build a State ! 
First there be those that shape and drive the share, 
Yoke the meek oxen, fold and milk the ewes, 
Hunt hart and boar and buck, harpoon the whale, 
With cunning gin and bait ensnare the fowl. 
From well-tanned fells weave hose and bridle-thongs, 
Pouches and hide-vats, — skilled in toil and craft. 
Then come the worthier sort that bear the shield. 
Fear only God, and never show their backs 
Though faced by spears a hundredfold their own. 



86 ENGLAND'S DARLING act ill 

Last but not least are those that watch and pray, 

For under God it is we work and war. 

All these there be, and they are at my side, 

To fashion England. What it lacks is learning : 

And o' how slow to learn is this stark stock. 

Stark but unshapely, and with dullard ears 

For sound and sense and soul of things unseen ! 

To every Bishop in the land, when once 

The Danish Raven flickers, must I send 

A copy of Pope Gregory's Pastoral, 

With golden seal worth fifty mancuses, 

And every English boy must read and con 

The Chronicle of this his cradle-land. 

Growing apace and nigh upon our time, 

That tells him whence he came, and what those did 

Whose deeds are in his veins. But, above all, 

All men must learn its minstrelsy, and lift 

Their hearts above the ground on wings of song. 

For Song it is that spans the mighty world. 

Brings the far near, lends light where all is dark. 

Gives sorrow sweetness, and helps man to live 

And die more nobly ! 

END OF ACT HI 



ACT IV 



ACT IV 

SCENE I 

[The Camp of Guthrum at Ethandune. Guthrum, Oskytel, 
and their Jarls are feasting in Guthrum's tent.] 

OSKYTEL 

Out of the skull of the foe the mead smacks sweet. 
Taste of it, Guthrum. 

GUTHRUM (drinking) 

Honey-sweet and strong ! 
For ale-feasts is there no such land as this, 
And now 'tis ours to brew with. Do you mind 
The day we fired the shrine at Huntingdon, 
And supped amid the smoke ? I see them now, 
Lean shavelings huddled round about the shrine, 
89 



90 ENGLAND'S DARLING act iv 

Clutching the silver beakers set with gems, 
And yielding but with life the shining robes, 
Woven of silk and gold, that in their coffers 
Lay thick as leaves fresh ruddled by the frost. 

OSKYTEL 

Aye, but at Lindsey was there fatter fare. 

Your shrivelled friar is well enough to slay. 

But worthless after slaying. Buxom maids. 

To while away the weariness of peace. 

And fair-haired boys to hand the mead-bowl round, 

These are the boons of battle ! 

GUTHRUM 

This to Woden ! 
Whose day will dawn with morrow ! This to Thor, 
Who hammers out the thunder and the flash, 
And slays the dragon ! 

OSKYTEL 

This to boar-helmed Freyr, 
The sender of the needfire and the rain ! 

[Turning to the Jarls.] 
Why quaff you not ? 



SCENE I ENGLAND'S DARLING 91 

FIRST JARL 

Because of Weird at hand. 
Ask them that read the staves. This crimson-dawn, 
The beechen sHps on the white cloth spelled out 
The runes of death. 

SECOND JARL 

And the Shieldmaidens fled 
Dim to the wood. 

THIRD JARL 

Aye, and the snow-white steeds, 
Lashed to the holy chariot, neighed of doom, 
Then reared and snorted backward to the staU. 

FIRST JARL 

I mind me of the day my lord me gave 
Folkright and homestead, and I will not now 
Hold back if need befall him, for unmeet 
It were that I should homeward bear my shield. 
But woeful are the lots. 

SECOND JARL 

I mind the time 
I in the timbered beer-hall pledged my lord, 



92 ENGLAND'S DARLING act iv 

When gave he me both helm and ring, that I 
Would pay him back my war-gear at his need. 
So surely will I. But the runes are foul. 

GUTHRUM 

We know it, trusty Jarls ! You all speak sooth. 
The ebon Raven which the daughters three 
Of Regnor Lodbrog in one morning wove 
For Hingvar and for Hubba, will not flap 
Its wings for war, but droopeth listlessly, 
Forewarning rout. So will we not now fight, 
But hang our axes on the wall till Thor 
Shine on their faces. Meanwhile, let us feast 
Blithe in the land we have won. 

" / trust my swordy I trust my steed: 
But most I trust myself at need.^'' 

He's no true Jarl that doth not drink with me. 

FOURTH JARL 

An aged gleeman, with his daughter, craves 
To cheer the night with song. His thews hang loose, 
His back is bent like to a bow that keeps. 
Unstrung, the bias of its former strain, 



SCENE II ENGLAND'S DARLING 93 

And wan as winter is his flaky hair. 
But the unwedded helpmeet at his side, 
A very bud of freshly-burgeoned May, 
Vows in his voice that manhood lingers still, 
And he can sing of war, and love, and aught 
That's bidden of his craft. 

GUTHRUM 

Then bring him in. 



SCENE II 

[Alfred and Edgiva are led in, and placed, side by side, on 
a high settle near the opening of the tent, opposite GuTH- 

RUM andOSKYTEL.] 

OSKYTEL 

Give him to quaff, out of this cup of mine. 
He'll troll the lustier if first warmed with ale. 

GUTHRUM 

Now for brave singing ! 

ALFRED 

In the Beginning when, out of darkness^ 
The Earth, the Heaven, 
The stars, the seasons, 



94 ENGLAND'S DARLING act iv 

The mighty mainland^ 
And whale -ploughed water. 
By God the Maker 
Were formed and fashionedy 
Then God made England. 

He made it shapely 
With land-locked inlets y 
And gray-green nesses ; 
With rivers roaming 
From fair-leafed forests 
Through windless valleySy 
Past plain and pasture y 
To sloping shingle : 
Thus God made England. 

Then like to the long-backed bounding billows^ 
That foam and follow 
In rolling ridges y 
Before and after y 
To bluff and headlandy 
Hither there tided 
The loose-limbed Briton y 
The lording Roman, 



SCENE II ENGLAND'S DARLING 95 

And strong on his oars the sea-borne Saxon, 
And now the Norsemen 
Who hard with Alfred 
Wrestle for England. 

GUTHRUM 

How lustily he trolls ! A glee like this 
Would stave off bane and death. 

OSKYTEL 

Look on him now ! 
He gleams as though to-day and yesterday 
Had with to-morrow trysted in his gaze. 
A Seer ! A Seer ! Jarls ! Drink unto the Seer ! 

JARLS 

Aye, and to his fair daughter must we quaff ! 

ALFRED 

But onward and forward. 
In far days fairer, 
I see this England 
Made one and mighty : 
Mighty and master 
Of all within it. 



96 ENGLAND'S DARLING act iv 

Mighty and master 
Of men high-seated^ 
Of free-neeked labour , 
Lowland and upland. 
And corn and cattle, 
And ploughla nd peaceful, 
Of happy homesteads 
That warmly nestle 
In holt and hollow. 
This is the Efigland, 
In fair days forward, 
I see and sing of 

GUTHRUM 

And who shall have this England? 

JARLS 

Aye, who shall have this England? 

ALFRED 

Then^ mighty and master of all within her, 
Of Celt and Briton, 
Angle and Frisian, 
Saxon and Norseman, 



SCENE II ENGLAND'S DARLING 97 

Shall England plough, like the whale and walrus. 

The roaring ridges 

Of foam-necked water, 

With long-oared warships 
And keels high-beaked ; 
And never afoeman, 
Eastivard or westward. 
Shall dare to raven 
Her salt-sea inlets, 
Her grim gray nesses, 
But, swift at the sight of her rearing cradles, 
Shall scud and scatter, 
Like wild geese fleeing 

^Twixt wave and welkin, 
Away from the dread of the shrilling weapons 

Of foam-fenced England! 

OSKYTEL 

But who shall have this England ? 

GUTHRUM 

Aye, who shall have this England ? 

[A born sounds, and shouts are heard without. Alfred throws 
off his disguise, stands erect in kingly garb, and, drawing 
bis sword, exclaims: ] 
H 



98 ENGLAND'S DARLING act iv 

ALFRED 

Alfred shall have this England ! 
Lord Christ shall have this England ! 

[Edward, Ethelred, Ethelnoth, and a body of the King's 
Thanes, rush in. Alfred disarms Guthrum, who has 
struck at him with his battle-axe. Edward fells and 
disarms Oskytel, and the Jarls that do not yield are slain.] 

EDWARD 

The Golden Dragon floats o'er Ethandune. 

We broke upon the Army in its sleep, 

And bound the weaponless. Those that awoke 

With battle-axe in grip, the ruffled vulture, 

The swarthy raven, and the sallow kite. 

Are rawly tattering with their tawny nibs ; 

And wealden wolves will batten on the rest. 

ALFRED {to Guthrum) 

Now yet again the Lord of War hath placed 
Your life within my hands. Forfeited once, 
I gave it back to you, when first you swore, 
Upon our sacred tokens and your own. 
To dwell in peace with me and mine for aye. 
Your hostages I held : I hold you now. 



SCENE II ENGLAND'S DARLING 

Why should the sword not fall upon your neck? 

But, since Lord Christ hath won this fight for me, 

And He is pitiful, I fain would spare 

And leave you free within East Anglia, 

But owning me for King and Overlord, 

If you can tend me tighter pledge than that 

Forsworn and broken. 

GUTHRUM 

Bind me, an you will. 
To Christ your King, who henceforth shall be mine. 
For He is mightier than our Gods, as you 
Are mightier than our Vikings ! 

ALFRED 

Henceforth, then, 
Live, like to us, at peace within this land, 
Our brothers, not our bane ; our were-gild yours, 
Our foe your foe, our feud your feud, and you, 
No less than we, English in name and heart. 
Up from the mouth of Thames along the Lea 
To where the Ouse leads on to Wathng Street 
Hold you the land, but at my bidding still 
If need should rise. Beyond, is Mercia ; 



99 



100 ENGLAND'S DARLING act iv 

Which Ethelred, my sister's trusty lord, 
Under my rod will rule. You, Ethelnoth, 
Rebuild and strengthen London, and make good 
Our name along the twistings of the Thames ; 
While Werefrith, helped by Plegmund, shall renew 
God's House at Winchester. Thanes, Freemen, 

Friends, 
Let each one strive to quit him worthily. 
For me, I have no other wish on earth, 
Save to leave long remembrance after me 
Of something done for England ! 

OSKYTEL {gazing hard on Edgiva, who is standing by 

Edward) 
What is this token, wound about your wrist ? 
Are you Sweyne's daughter ? my dead comrade's child, 
Whom we left, motherless, within the fork 
Of a high wychelm, thinking soon to fetch 
Her safely from that cradle, on the day 
That Ethelwulf and Wulfheard, Saxon Thanes, 
Beset our Jarls, and over the White Horse 
Drove us in headlong rout across the stream. 

EDWARD 

Noble I knew her ! 



SCENE II ENGLAND'S DARLING 101 

ALFRED 

Nobly wed her then ! 
And when God calls me to Himself, for men 
Know not how long or little they will stay, 
May offspring worthy of your fair love and you, 
Saxon with Dane, hand down the English Throne ! 

ETHELRED {bursting into the tent) 
Great news, my Lord ! The ships you bade us build 
Full nigh on twice the length of pagan esks, 
At Swanage on the robber swan-necks rode, 
And wedged them through the waves. Their splin- 
tered planks 
Are weltering with the seaweed ; their snapped oars, 
Like to their carcases, the gurgling ooze 
Sucks down, then belches forth again, to rot 
Upon the brackish furrows of the brine. 

ALFRED 

Now praised be God ! for this is news indeed, 
And Swanage crowns us more than Ethandune. 
In this strong Isle sequestered by the sea 
From tread outlandish, victory upon ground 
Our own to keep or lose, is half defeat ; 



102 ENGLAND^S DARLING act iv 

For why on English soil should foe's foot stand? 
The battlemented Sea will beat him off, 
So we but man it, and our bounding prows 
Scatter him flying deathward o'er the foam, 
Like loose leaves harried by autumnal wind. 
Aye, and in those bright bodings that high Heaven 
Vouchsafes at times to man, my ken foresees 
That, once this land inviolably free 
From threat without, its billow-suckled breed. 
Yearning beyond the narrow bonds of birth, 
Wherever shine the stars or rolls the tide. 
Will lay their lordship on the waves, and be 
Rulers and rovers of the widening world. 

ALL 

Long live Alfred I 
Long rule Alfred! 
England's Comfort, 
England's Shepherd, 
England's Oarsman, 
England's Darling I 



END OF ACT IV 



THE PASSING OF MERLIN 



The following Poem appeared in The Times of October 7th 
1892, and is now republished, with the permission of the Pro- 
prietors of that Journal. 



THE PASSING OF MERLIN 

I am Merlin, 

And I am dying, 

I am Merlin 

Who follow The Gleam. 

TENNYSON'S Merlin and The Gleam. 

I 

Merlin has gone — has gone ! — and through the land 
The melancholy message wings its way ; 
To careless-ordered garden by the bay, 
Back o'er the narrow strait to island strand, 
Where Camelot looks down on wild Broceliand. 

n 

Merlin has gone, Merhn the Wizard who found, 
In the Past's glimmering tide, and hailed him King, 
Arthur, great Uther's son, and so did sing 
The mystic glories of the Table Round, 
That ever its name will live so long as Song shall sound. 
los 



io6 THE PASSING OF MERLIN 



m 

Merlin has gone, Merlin who followed the Gleam, 

And made us follow it ; the flying tale 

Of the Last Tournament, the Holy Grail, 

And Arthur's Passing ; till the Enchanter's dream 

Dwells with us still awake, no visionary theme. 

IV 

To-day is dole in Astolat, and dole 
In Celidon the forest, dole and tears. 
In joyous Gard blackhooded lean the spears : 
The nuns of Almesbury sound a mournful toll. 
And Guinevere kneeling weeps, and prays for Mer- 
lin's soul. 



A wailing cometh from the shores that veil 
Avilion's island valley ; on the mere, 
Looms through the mist and wet winds weeping blear 
A dusky barge, which, without oar or sail, 
Fades to the far-off fields where falls nor snow nor 
hail. 



THE PASSING OF MERLIN 107 

VI 

Of all his wounds He will be healed now, 
Wounds of harsh time and vulnerable life, 
Fatigue of rest and weariness of strife, 
Doubt and the long deep questionings that plough 
The forehead of age, but bring no harvest to the 
brow. 

vn 

And there He will be comforted ; but we 
Must watch, like Bedivere, the dwindling hght 
That slowly shrouds Him darkling from our sight. 
From the great deep to the great deep hath He 
Passed, and, if now He knows, is mute eternally. 



VIII 

From Somersby's ivied tower there sinks and swells 
A low slow peal, that mournfully is rolled 
Over the long gray fields and glimmering wold. 
To where, 'twixt sandy tracts and moorland fells, 
Remembers Locksley Hall his musical farewells. 



lo8 THE PASSING OF MERLIN 



IX 

And many a sinewy youth on Cam to-day 
Suspends the dripping oar and lets his boat 
Like dreaming water-lily drift and float, 
While murmuring to himself the undying lay 
That haunts the babbhng Wye and Severn's dirgeful 
bay. 

X 

The bole of the broad oak whose knotted knees 
Lie hidden in the fern of Sumner Place, 
Feels stirred afresh, as when Olivia's face 
Lay warm against its rind, though now it sees 
Not Love but Death approach, and shivers in the 
breeze. 

XI 

In many a vicarage garden, dense with age, 
The haunt of pairing throstles, many a grange 
Moated against the assault and siege of change. 
Fair eyes consult anew the cherished Sage, 
And now and then a tear falls blistering the page. 



THE PASSING OF MERLIN 109 

xn 

April will blossom again, again will ring 
With cuckoo's call and yaffel's flying scream, 
And in veiled sleep the nightingale will dream, 
Warbling as if awake. But what will bring 
His sweet note back ? He mute, it scarcely will be 
Spring. 

xm 

The Seasons sorrow for Him, and the Hours 
Droop, like to bees belated in the rain. 
The unmoving shadow of a pensive pain 
Lies on the lawn and lingers on the flowers. 
And sweet and sad seem one in woodbine-woven 
bowers. 

XIV 

In English gardens fringed with English foam, 
Or girt with English woods. He loved to dwell. 
Singing of English lives in thorp or dell. 
Orchard or croft ; so that, when now we roam 
Through them, and find Him not, it scarcely feels like 
home. 



no THE PASSING OF MERLIN 

XV 

And England's glories stirred Him as the swell 

Of bluff winds blowing from Atlantic brine 

Stirs mightier music in the murmuring pine. 

Then sweet notes waxed too strong within his shell, 

And bristling rose the lines, and billowy rose and fell. 



XVI 

So England mourns for Merlin, though its tears 
Flow not from bitter source that wells in vain. 
But kindred rather to the rippling rain 
That brings the daffodil sheath and jonquil spears 
When Winter weeps away and April reappears. 



xvn 

For never hath England lacked a voice to sing 
Her fairness and her fame, nor will she now. 
Silence awhile may brood upon the bough, 
But shortly once again the Isle will ring 
With wakening winds of March and rhapsodies of 
Spring. 



THE PASSING OF MERLIN in 



xvm 

From Arthur unto Alfred, Alfred crowned 
Monarch and Minstrel both, to Edward's day, 
From Edward to Elizabeth, the lay 
Of valour and love hath never ceased to sound, 
But Song and Sword are twin, indissolubly bound. 



XEX 

Nor shall in Britain Taliessin tire 

Transmitting through his stock the sacred strain. 

When fresh renown prolongs Victoria's Reign, 

Some patriot hand will sweep the living lyre, 

And prove, with native notes, that Merlin was his sire. 



THE END 



THE POETICAL WORKS 



OF 



ALFRED AUSTIN, 

POET LAUREATE. 



LYRICAL POEMS. One vol. Crown 8vo. ^^1.75. 
NARRATIVE POEMS. One vol. Crown 8vo. $1.75. 

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MADONNA'S CHILD. One vol. Fcap. 8vo. ^i.oo. 



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I 



OTHER WORKS 

BY 

ALFRED AUSTIN, 

POET LAUREATE. 

THE GARDEN THAT I LOVE. 

WITH FOURTEEN ILLUSTRATIONS. 
Extra Crown 8vo. Price, $2.50. 



TIMES. — " It is a description in lucid and graceful prose of an old-fash- 
ioned garden and its cultivation, interspersed with genial colloquies between 
its owners and their guests, and enriched with occasional verse. Mr. Austin, 
who is greatly to be envied the possession of this delightful garden, and not 
less to be congratulated on his sympathetic appreciation of its charms, has 
rarely been so happily inspired. . . . Some of his admirers will wish for 
more of Mr. Austin's verse ; for ourselves we are content with a volume 
which, though not in verse, is unmistakably the work of a poet." 

SPECTA TOR.— " We are glad to welcome Mr. Alfred Austin's delightful 
Garden that I Love in a compact book form. Mr. Austin is the laureate of 
gardens; he is, as Addison says, ' In love with a country life, where Nature 
appears in the greatest perfection, and furnishes out all those scenes that are 
most apt to delight the imagination.' In the preface to Mr. Austin's English 
Lyrics, Mr. William Watson writes: 'A nobly filial love of country, and 
a tenderly passionate love of the country — these appear to me the two 
dominant notes of this volume ' ; and in the new volume that has just 
appeared, the same dominant notes recur again and again. In his poems 
Mr. Austin has described Spring's youthful face, where sunny smiles chase 
away the fleeting tears ; Summer's serene rose-tinted beauty; the matured 
brilliance of Autumn; and the withered homeliness of Winter; and now he 
takes his readers behind the scenes, as it were, and shows them an ideal 
country-house with its heavy mullioned windows looking towards the morn- 
ing and noontide sun, and its gabled front almost smothered in climbing 
roses and creepers. , . . The Garden that I Love is sure of a large and 
appreciative audience." 



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2 



OTHER WORKS 

BY 

ALFRED AUSTIN, 

POET LAUREATE. 

IN VERONICA'S GARDEN. 

WITH FOURTEEN ILLUSTRATIONS. 
Extra Crown 8vo. Price, $2.50. 



TIMES. — " Although sequels and continuations are proverbially perilous 
undertakings, we have little doubt that Mr. Alfred Austin's readers will 
gladly renew the acquaintance with Veronica's delightful garden and its 
genial occupants which they made in The Garden that I Love. The 
scheme of the new volume is the same as that of its predecessor. The 
garden is richer and more luxuriant, and its owner's or creator's love for it is 
more intense, than ever, and the illustrations with which the volume is 
enriched will make Mr. Austin's readers more eager than ever to share his 
love for and delight in it. The * friends in council ' whose colloquies enliven 
the garden and give an air of cultured refinement to Mr. Austin's pages are 
also the same as before, though their relationships are somewhat different. 
Veronica is now the wife of the Poet, while the anonymous gardener and the 
winsome Lamia appear to revolve somewhat erratically around this domestic 
centre. In both cases Mr. Austin blends in very delightful fashion his love 
of flowers and of simple rural delights with his love of gentle thoughts and 
gracious converse." 

GUARDIAN. — "^It. Austin has done well to follow up The Garden 
that I Love by In Veronica's Garde7i. It is really a second volume of 
the same work, and not only presupposes that the reader has read the first 
by frequent references to it, but is written on exactly the same lines, with 
the same dramatis per sonce, the same quiet humour, and the same mixture 
of gardening, poetry, and moralising that made The Garden that I Love 
such pleasant reading. In one respect only can we trace any difference : 
the garden is still the central point of the book, but there is less of gardening 
in it, and more of moralisings and short essays ; still the moralisings come in 
very naturally, and the essays, though short, are always to the point. There 
is the same healthy tone in this second volume that there was in the first; the 
same love of the country in all its aspects." 



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ENGLISH LYRICS* 

A SELECTION FROM THE LYRICAL 
POEMS OF ALFRED AUSTIN, 

EDITED, WITH A PREFACE, 

By WILLIAM WATSON. 



Crown 8vo. $1.25. 



EXTRACT FROM THE PREFACE. 

" A nobly filial love of Country, and a tenderly passionate love 
of the country — these appear to me the two dominant notes of this 
volume. The phrases themselves stand for things widely different, 
but it seems fated that the things themselves should be found present 
together or together absent. . . . Our literature prior to Lord 
Tennyson contains no such full utterance of this dual passion, this 
enthusiasm of nationality underlying an intimate and affectionate 
knowledge of every bird that makes an English summer melodious, 
and every flower that sweetens English air ; and it seems to me that 
if the question be asked, ' Who among the poets of a later genera- 
tion can be said to share with Lord Tennyson the quality of being 
in this double sense English through and through ? ' any competent 
person trying to answer the question honestly will find the name of 
the author of this volume of English Lyrics the first to rise to his lips. 

" Mr. Alfred Austin would seem to love England none the less, 
but rather the more, because he has also felt the spell of other 
countries with a keenness only possible in natures which present a 
wide surface to impressions." 



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